


Human

by orphan_account



Series: Human [1]
Category: The works of Dean Palmer
Genre: Animal Death, Blood, Death, Gore, Graphic scientific experiments, Horror, human death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-26
Updated: 2018-03-25
Packaged: 2018-11-05 08:10:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 10,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11009421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Could this new mystery blonde be a possible love interest for our dear Sam?





	1. Experiment 032: Abigail

My name is Sam Barton. My mom died in a house fire when I was around twenty. Ten years later, my father burned both himself and my older brother in the basement of his house. After my mom had died, I had studied in biology and medicine. I was one of the best. Sure, I didn't discover gravity or some other crap like that, but I made it possible to meld a human's DNA with that of an animal's. As great as the success had been, it took a long while because there were barely any people volunteering. They should be honoured. People should've crowded from miles around just to see my work. What I did was such an advance to science that I was kicked out from where I worked. There was one person, Millie, that gave me equipment, animals, and DNA samples every month like clockwork.

 

I open my eyes, staring at the ceiling as I awake from my slumber. Turning my head to the side, I glare at the time on the clock. 06:30 AM. I hate mornings with a burning passion. With a loud sigh and a crack of my back, I get up and get dressed. Time to go get my next subject. Not wanting to waste any time, I quickly eat a slice of toast spread with marmite and start walking down the poor part of town. It's easier to get people here; they don't have any family around and no one knows their name so the police don't ask any questions. I stroll down to the bad side of the street; where the beggars and addicts lay as the prostitutes stay. I'm quick to spy a little girl in a dirty and torn white dress. Her greasy blonde hair falls down to her shoulders, messy and like a rat's nest. She looks towards me with a hopeful smile as she sees my well kept hair and clothes, and I force a smile back at her. Her parents are nowhere in sight, and I offer her some warm milk and cookies. She doesn't hesitate at all as she grabs my hand and I take her back home. Dog or wild cat legs? Maybe ostrich or emu. 

 

After knocking the noisy brat out with chloroform, I strap her to an old dentist chair. Her head is near the ground, while her legs are in the air. I'd let her change into some more decent clothes beforehand. I drag out a German Sheppard from the dog cage stationed in the corner, forcing it onto a perfectly clean operating table - a gift from Millie. After making sure the mutt can't escape, I get a bonesaw. The bonesaw can be quick or slow, depending on the sadistic nature of the person behind the weapon. It slices in with a little resistance from the squirming dog, but is otherwise very effective. The dog howls in pain as I drag the saw back and forth, cutting through half of the leg bone before I hear the child waking up.

 

"What.. what's going on? Sam, are you there?" She asks, fear evident in her quiet whisper. I huff and make my way over to the overgrown baby, hands stained with a warm crimson substance. "Yes, Abigail. I'm here." I mumble, feigning innocence as I gaze into her wide eyes. Slowly picking up the cleaver from the tray, I swing it straight into her right leg. She lets out a shrill shriek of terror and pure agony as I leave the cleaver in her now blood stained leg. I continue hacking away at the useless limb, until it comes off and the knife is lodged into the chair. I put her leg in the freezer and walk to the dog. It's loosing blood fast. It'll be dead by sunset. With one quick motion, I bend the leg where I made the slice. A satisfying crunch echoes around the room as bones break, splitting through flesh and fur. It takes a few hours, but I had managed to join the dog's leg to Abigail's. Sobs and pleas had shook through Abigail's small form for the first 3 minutes, before I knocked her out. I used a blood hound's leg for her left one. That one came clean off with the bonesaw.

 

After altering the child's DNA to better suit the animal side of her, I monitor her behaviour. Over the years I had learnt to start the cloning process earlier for better results, but only if the DNA had been successfully mutated. The limbs are healing nicely and the legs are working after a few weeks.

 

My hypothesis was correct - the German Sheppard leg showed signs of failure far before the Blood Hound one did. Abigail has a bad attitude. She doesn't like my experiments and she attacked 014 yesterday. I can't keep her here; she's a danger to us all. She squirms and howls as acid is pumped into her veins, burning her from the inside. All I can do is watch, face lacking any signs of emotion. I clean up the mess she left behind before putting a clone of her after the first signs of leg failure had been spotted.


	2. Experiment 067: Bradley

The walk to the poor part of town seems quick as I - yet again - trudge down the path littered with cigarette butts and broken glass. My eyes rest on a rather large fool picking on a considerably smaller and thinner child, forcing the little one close to tears. With the faintest hint at a smirk placed on my lips, I lead the larger kid to the bunker. I know the experiment I'll do. But I'll need to call Millie first. I do so as the fat extraction is in progress. Not exactly my favourite thing, but ostrich wings work better with a smaller body mass. Believe me. Plus, fat can be used in cooking, right?

 

I'm used to tying people to things, so chaining Bradley up after the successful extraction is like a walk in the park. He wakes with a jolt, fearful blue eyes darting around the dimly lit experimentation lab, until they finally land on me. I tilt my head to the side a little, eyes narrowed. But I smile a tiny bit when I hear the familiar voice of a friend of mine "wow, you really did a foot job of the fat extraction. This time." Millie commented, hands on her hips while she leaned against the doorway, Katie purring from her perch on the redhead's shoulders. I nod with a small hum, not taking my eyes off of the now small boy. She slowly walks over, boots making soft taps on the tile floor as her hips sway from side to side. I can tell she's trying to hide the fact that the cooler is too heavy. She never did like lifting weights. "It was horrible to do and I hate you for telling me to do it but I got your damn ostrich wings" a glare was thrown at me as she dropped the cooler down in front of me, almost on my feet. "Most of the feathers are in tact, like you asked. Money would be greatly appreciated." She stated, hands on her hips and weight shifting to rely mainly on her left leg. Sassy bitch had a habit of doing that. With a slight nod of thanks, I hand her a £20 note. "That's it?! I dismantled a freakin' bird, Barton!" She exclaims, anger evident in her tone. I just look up at her with a bored expression laced into my usual bitchface. Her boots now create a slightly louder thud against the floor as a result of her storming out the room like a child would while having a tantrum, causing Katie to dig her claws into her owner's jumper, meowing loudly as she tried to hold on. A few seconds later, she comes back and snatches the money from me, before she's leaving again. Her hips sway and her hair swishes. I roll my eyes and stand up, locking the door behind her. "Now.. let's begin." I smirk, turning towards Bradley.

 

His screams are loud and shrill, almost shattering my eardrums. _Note to self; get earplugs._ I continue sawing through the flesh and bone of the idiot's bleeding arm. "Would you shut up?! I'm trying to work!" I yell, an angry growl scaring him more. Bringing the saw up high, I slam it back down straight onto the bone, grunting a little as blood splatters everywhere. The arm comes off, and I make quick work of attaching the delicate ostrich wing.

 

I watch Bradley from the window of his cell. The feathers look magnificent. So fluffy and beautiful. They  _are_ soft, I know that for a fact. It took a while to clean off all the blood, but it was worth it. He had protested a lot, though.

 

Some child stumbled across my bunker, completely unexpected. I look at her, eyebrows raised in surprise. She looks up at me, tears streaming down her pale cheeks as she does sad puppy dog eyes that - unfortunately for her - I felt nothing towards. "Please.. help me....." came her soft whimper. "I need to find my mommy" she cried harder as she said this. I didn't care. But I did let her inside with a smile impossibly fake, yet so believable. I gave her soup and clean clothes with the promise of finding her mom in the morning.

 

With strong scrubbing movements, I wipe away the crimson stains that plague a small hunting knife. Just your usual Friday evening. Right? The girl - Jessica - slipped by me and headed to the cells, curiosity inevitably leading to her death. The soft patters of her feet were only heard by me and Martaeus (Mar-tay-us); a specimen I got from the animal shelter. He was a good dog. Maybe I'll use his organs in a future experiment. He stays by the door most of the time, and often greets me with a lick.

 

I heard a small yelp, and a loud growl. Ah, so she's found Martaeus. Brilliant. Switching on a few lights, I go down to Jessica and Martaeus. Jessica's missing a few fingers and clutching her hand, a few drops of blood slipping to fall on the floor. "Dinner." I say, looking at Martaeus. In a flash, he's got Jessica pinned to the floor, teeth tearing open her throat and eating most of the flesh of her upper body. Her limbs were torn clean off, devoured soon after. It was.. rather entertaining. The scarlet blood decorated the floor beneath the dead girl, so I grabbed a mop. "Bathtime." I say as Martaeus finished his meal, and he eagerly runs up to the bathroom, getting bloody pawprints on the carpet. I take whats left of her and give it to any carnivorous creature I've created and kept. I had to take the bones out, of course. Wouldn't do any good to have someone choke. 

 


	3. Experiment #82: Mohammed

A man came to my door, clad in a black suit and briefcase in hand. "Hello uh.. Barton. I'm here on behalf of Mister Pista. According to him, you have not been replying to him and he would like to know why. May I?" Hesitantly, I let him in. "I've been busy." I stated gruffly. "May I ask what exactly it is you've been busy with?" He asked, voice starting to annoy me. "No. No you may not." Came my firm reply. "Barton, he wants an explanation." He's seriously getting on my nerves. "Do I  _look_ like I care? No. Don't let the boot kick you on your way out." I glare at him as I speak. With a small huff, he leaves. 

 

"Hello this is Mister Pista's office" came the well practised greeting from a girl in her early twenties. She was new, I could tell. "Get Michael on the phone.  _Now._ " I growled, and soon heard my old friend. "Pista. Any idea as to why one of your  _associates_ was at my door not 10 minutes ago?" I ask, trying to keep my cool. I know he knows I'm angry. Not exactly rocket science. "Yes, actually. I had to make sure you weren't dead, Sam." He said apologetically. "If I was, don't you think Mils would've told you?" I growled, agitated. "I suppose so.. but I had to be sure. Alioth misses you." I could hear his frown just from his voice. "It's a dog, Michael."

"Dogs have feelings, too!"

"Whatever."

"...still doing those experiments?"

"Mhmm."

"Mohammed. The guy I sent round. He needs a new liver.."

"I'll see what I can do. Send him over."

"Will do."

The line went dead, and I huffed.

 

"Mils. Get me 2 cat's livers and I'll pay you extra." I said into the phone. "Why are you calling me on my bloody day off?!" Came the irritated voice of the redhead. "And it better be more than last time!" She adds with a growl.

"£100."

"More."

"....£200."

"Deal. I'll have them at your door by Saturday."

 

Mohammad appeared at my door on Saturday, just as Millie was leaving. "Are you sure you can do this operation?" He asked, nervous. I nodded and pulled him inside. "No need to be nervous, Mohammed. I've done this many times before." I stated, pouring out some tea. I snuck 2 crushed sleeping pills in Mohammed's, making it seem like sugar. He gratefully drank it, while I sipped mine with a blank expression. After a short while, he passed out. Finally.

 

Soon enough, he was strapped down; leather cuffs binding him to the operating table that I kept clean. I've never really felt the need for anaesthetic. With a sterilised scalpel, I cut into the flesh above his liver, blade sliding through with almost no resistance. Blood trickled down from the open wound, staining dark skin with crimson delicacy. Silently, I cut his liver free and replaced it with the cat ones. The organs felt soft in my hands, almost able to squish them. Wiping the sweat from my brow, I step back from my patient. He's awake; has been for a while. He has tear stains all over his face and fresh ones still rolling down. I've made sure to block a few capillaries; just to see what happens. Quickly, I wheel him over to his own cell and dump him on the cold, hard floor. He grunts and winces as I slam the door, panicking. He's terrified. Rightly so.

 

"Hello?" I said into the phone. "Ah, Sam. So nice of you to pick up." Lucy said "oh, joy." I mumbled. "Anyway. Fisher Park. Friday. Be there." Her voice had a slight growl, which - I'll admit - is as intimidating as someone can get without being a monster on steroids. She hangs up before I can reply.

 

The warm water glides down my back, relaxing tense muscles. Hot droplets if heaven rolling down pale skin. My hands smooth through my hair, washing it with sweet apple flavoured shampoo. It doesn't actually taste like apples, funnily enough. I turn off the water and step out of the shower, wrapping a towel around my waist. I dry myself off, the fluffy white towel soft against wet skin.  _Almost like bird feathers._ I think to myself, a small smile appearing on my face. Slipping on a small, tight-fitting AC/DC shirt, I rummage through my drawers to find some jeans. I shrug those on, too. I'm not gonna wear something fancy to a park. Millie had said she had someone for me to meet. Wonder who it could be.


	4. Friday nights can get too friendly

I walk to the park, about 5 minutes early. Seeing the cherry tree I met Keely under all those years ago. I sit under it and sigh, glancing around. It's 3 minutes before Lucy gets there, perching beside me and passing me her whiskey flask. Hesitantly I take a sip, the liquid burning my throat pleasantly. "They're late." She says after a minute of eerie yet somehow comforting silence. "Not yet. They still have another minute or so." I reply. "Bite me"

"Not yet, Lucifer."

The redhead we know as Millie comes bounding over to us, dragging a surprised and unfamiliar woman along with her. You can see Michael trailing behind, calling out for Millie to stop going so fast. Her soft gaze falls on mine, gorgeous blue eyes staring into my soul. Auburn hair short but framing her face perfectly. A few slightly shorter strands were tucked behind her ears, and I can't help but look at her, mouth slightly parted and an obviously unfamiliar nervousness crawling its way into my stomach.  _What is this feeling?_ "Barton, close your mouth or you'll catch flies." Michael said, voice laced with clear amusement. With a glare, I turn my attention on to him. "Sam, meet Deanna." Millie said with a grin. The woman - Deanna, apparently - holds out her hand with an adorable smile gracing her beautiful face. Glancing at it, I shake her hand quickly before turning my attention to Lucy. "Bar?" She asks, as I nod in agreement. Deanna hasn't said a word yet. We walk to the bar, and I longer behind, confused at what I'm feeling.

 

"Lighten up a little, Sam!" Deanna says as we sit at the bar. "To get Sammy to lighten up, you have to take them out for dinner first." Lucy says, patting my back. "It's Sam." I mumble gruffly, suddenly not liking the idea of being trapped in a bar with these guys. "So, Sam, what are you working as at the minute?" Deanna asks, getting my attention with her sweet voice. "Scientist." One word answers are good with small talk, right? "You?" I ask, not meeting her gaze as I down another shot. "Doctor." She replies. "I never thought scientists could be so attractive." She adds. "I'm not." Another shot. The conversation goes back and forth, yet I've been keeping a lot to myself.

 

I've been trying to figure out why I get shivers down my spine every time she smiles or looks at me with those gorgeous blues. Shaking my head, I walk back home. Silence surrounds my as the orange light from the overhead street lamps cast shadows of the green trees gently swaying in the soft breeze. It's peaceful. I like it this way. The quiet  _woosh_ of the trees dancing along to the persuading push of wind... It's all over too soon as I reach the door of the bunker, a sudden chill spreading down my spine as the wind picks up a little. Heading inside, I'm met by an old friend of mine sitting in a chair at the dining table. "Hey Sam. I see you kept Martaeus."

 

"Got back a little while ago. England's nice, by the way. Thanks for asking." The woman said, her brownish blonde hair falling in her face a little, despite the plait dangling over her shoulders. Her name's Keely. Keely Stark. And she's been a very important aid to my research; she's the one who gives me ideas and instructions. She helped me start this whole thing. I wouldn't have gotten anywhere without her. She's like a mom to me, and she treats me like one of her own. "Have you seen the other experiments, mom?" I ask, voice soft and lacking it's usual spite. Keely only nods, a small smile on her pretty face.

 

"Pista's new assistant, something Johnson, said you'd taken an interest in doctoring," she said, turning to face me after gazing through Mohammed's cell window. "But I never thought it'd end up quite like this." She added. "You've gotten better, Sam. I'm proud of you." My only reply is a small nod accompanied by an even smaller smile. Martaeus trusts very few people; me, Keely, and Millie. So it's not all surprising when he barks excitedly and tackles Keely, licking her face repeatedly to show his love. The act makes her giggle and hug him, gently pushing him away after a while. "Good to see you too, pup."

 

"You know where your room is. Night." I said after dinner, washing the plates. "Night Samsquatch." She says as she walks upstairs, tiredness consuming her as she goes to bed. I retreat to my room, feeding the snakes before I lay on the silk sheets, succumbing to sleep with the wind outside as a lullaby. I'd have to check on Mohammed in the morning. I don't usually dream, but this time I saw Deanna. She was standing, horrified expression on her face as blood slowly trickled from the corner of her mouth, gaping wound in her stomach. I tried to reach for her, but my fingertips scarcely grazed hers before I woke up.


	5. Sweet Torture

Sometimes people just need a little stress relief. Bottled up frustration from unsuccessful experiments often took a toll on my smart mind. So that's why a woman in her late thirties was slumped in the corner of a less-looked-after cell. I squatted down in front of her, studying her facial features. Smoker. Prostitute. Alcoholic, if the stench of her was anything to go by. I recall her earlier saying her name was Izzy. Her ratty blonde hair matched her bushy brown eyebrows in no way. As unorganised as many others in any situation similar to hers. Her dad probably left her. Maybe he hated the job at the post office.

 

Blue eyes blinked wearily against the harsh flickering of light. "Where.. where am I?" She asked, voice raspy and concerned. Without a word, I merely stride towards her and kneel infront of the bitch, reaching for my pocket knife. "Are you gonna kill me?" She asked, trying - yet failing - to crawl further back into the corner. Even kneeling down, I easily towered over her. Gently, I take her hand. "What the Hell are you doing?" She hissed, struggling slightly but to no avail. I make a small slit on the first knuckle of her pinkie finger on her left hand, smiling softly as only a few small drops of blood form at the edges of the incision. I leave the room, smiling to myself.

 

I come back around 10 minutes later and do the same to the pinkie on her other hand. She flinches and looks up at me, tears glazing over icey blue eyes. "Why? I've never done anything to you!" She starts yelling at the end, voice a lot louder than the quiet whisper at the start. I remain silent. Quite frankly, I can't be arsed to talk. Not worth wasting my breath. "I don't deserve this." Whispers she, and I feel my patience wearing thin. Enough of the waiting. I create one small cut on her cheek, then watch in pure delight as she screams wildly as I plunge my knife into the flesh below her knee. Her almost deafening banshee-like scream causes the cut on her cheek to widen and gush blood waterfalls that trail down her neck. Growling lowly, I glare at her and she quietens her cries and outbursts to small whimpers. "Please don't.." my only response is to glide the knife down her shoulder to her inner elbow. It splits skin beautifully, making me smile softly to myself. I walk out to clean off the blood, leaving her there in a puddle of blood.


	6. Experiment #84 "Monica"

That dream had been bugging me a lot for the past...

Very long time.

So I went into the woods to clear my head. What did it mean? Suddenly, a woman ran into me. She had dark hair, about shoulder length. "Sorry. Didn't see you there. Can you help me? I'm hungry and lost.. I need to use your phone." Said she, brown eyes sparkling slightly. Nodding, I lead her back to the bunker.

 

"So, I never caught your name." She says, batting her eyelashes flirtily as she sat on the sofa. "That's cause I didn't throw it." I replied. No time for flirting with cheap hookers. "Ugh. You're no fun." She whined. "Are you gonna actually sleep with me, or should I just go?" She huffed, annoyed. When she gained no reply, she made a move to leave. Her efforts were futile, though, as she was met with Keely's slight smirk. Keely knocked her out, and aided me in dragging her slutty ass down to the basement.

 

"Horse's eye." Keely said, gaze not wandering from the tied skank. With a small hum, I nodded in agreement. "There's some in the freezer, mommy." I said. 'mommy' was just a force of old habit. She took 2 of them from their frozen safe haven and handed them to me, and I gave them a once over and put the slightly damaged one in Martaeus' food bowl. After making sure the straps were tight, I reached for the surgical knife. It glides smoothly, sinking quickly into the soft material. The small  _squelch_ it let out was satisfying on its own, but watching it slowly pulled out was oh so much better. I made room for the horse's eyeball. It fit well, after some necessary persuasion. Reconnecting nerves is a wee bit of a bitch, I have to say.

 

"Monica's in her cell." I stated simply, glancing at Keely as she walked over. I was sitting on a chair, cleaning the blood from the surgery table. "She's scared." Keely commented. "I noticed." It's funny how a daring, confident slag can go from ruling the world to begging for freedom and bargaining with sex. A small sigh escapes my throat as I walk back upstairs, putting away my surgical tools. There's a soft knock at the door, so quiet it's mainly inaudible. The clock reads 1 AM. Who in the name of Hell would knock on the door to a sketchy bunker in the middle of the woods at freakin' midnight?! Nobody sane, that's for damn sure. My steps are tired and a little sluggish as I make my way over to the door. Surprise fills me as I open it and see pure beauty. It's  _her._ The girl with enchanting blue eyes and ginger-blonde hair. "Hey Sam.. can I come in?" She asked politely, voice as sweet as an angel ~~(Cas, you there?)~~.

 

Deanna takes a seat on the comfy black sofa, sighing softly as she rests her head on the cushions. "I've been working my ass off non stop for the past week, my landlord kicked me out for not wanting to sleep with his skank ass, and I ran out of tea. Can I stay here a while? I asked Millie but she said to come here.." looking up at me with hopeful puppy dog eyes, she's practically begging. "Hmm.. I don't see why not." The corner of my lips turn upwards just a little as I speak, yet I don't have a single clue as to why ~~(Aaaawww Sammy boy you're in love)~~. I lead her to a room, allowing her to put down her stuff. "Bathroom's down the hall, last door on your left." I say over my shoulder as I walk out, giving her time and space to adjust and unpack.

 

"Wow, I never thought you'd be such a good cook!" Deanna says in surprise after swallowing her first taste of spaghetti. Her statement hangs in the air, creating a silence one would describe as awkward, until she breaks it. "Sam.. I heard something from the basement earlier..." As she speaks, I put down my fork and look at her. "....do you have a pet down there? It's cruel to keep animals locked away, y'know." She continues, looking a little concerned. "I.. no. There is a dog down there, yes, but I moved him down when you came in. He doesn't take well to others." I state simply, and resume eating in silence while she nods and does the same. We finish our food, and I wash up the plates.

 

In the morning, I wake up as per usual. Slipping into a shirt and new underwear, I make my way to the kitchen. What surprises me most is not the delicious smell of pancakes and syrup, nor is it the fact Deanna is standing in the middle of the kitchen wearing short-shorts, a tank top, and my apron. No. It's the full English breakfast laid out on the table, and Martaeus staying at Deanna's feet, tail wagging happily. "Morning, Sam. I hope you don't mind. You take ages waking up, and I was getting hungry." She says, turning to me with a gracious smile adorning her gorgeous features. "I-.." I'm at a loss for words, but I hastily find something to say. "...No, it's fine." I mumble, taking a seat at the table. Noticing my presence, Martaeus jumps on my lap and greets me the way he does every time I go down to the basement. "He's a real sweetheart, Sam. ~~~~" ~~My angel~~ Deanna says as she puts a stack of pancakes in the middle of the table. "His name is Martaeus." I say as he sits on the floor, waiting for food scraps. After we finish, I wash up and Deanna gets ready for the long day ahead. "I'm going to work now, Sam. I should be back before midnight. Call me if you need anything." She says, kissing my cheek as she walks to the door. "I'm borrowing your car, by the way!" She calls over her shoulder as she walks to my Impala. 


	7. Sam's Birthday

"Sam.. Sam! Wake up!" A soft voice rang through my ears, it's harmony as sweet as angels singing. With a small protesting groan, I open my eyes and turn to the source of the noise. Deanna's leaning over me, smiling wide. "Happy birthday, Sam. Now get up; people are waiting for you downstairs." She walks out, hips swaying softly from side to side. I put on a shirt and jeans, the sudden warmth of actually wearing clothes making me feel more sleepy. Slowly and cautiously, I make my way downstairs. This is unusual, to say the least. Michael, Michael's assistant, Lucy, Millie, Keely, and Deanna are sitting on various seats around the room, smiling and laughing. There's a banner hanging from the cieling, and streamers almost touching the floor.

 

The atmosphere is too happy. I don't like it. "Ey, look! Sammy boy's here!" Michael exclaims, tossing me a party hat. I catch it, yet make no move to put it on. "Call me that again and I will tear your throat out. With my teeth." I say, face void of emotion. "C'mon, Sam, join the party! It's for you, after all." Millie says with a wolfish grin as Lucy smirks. "Pass." I mutter with a scowl, and head down to the basement. Before I walk through the door, I briefly catch a glimpse of Deanna move to follow me, only to be held back by Miss Johnson.

 

I look over at Muhammad in his dying state. Picking up a small hunting knife - not my best blade, but it'll have to do -, I walk over to him. "Please, don't.." he pleads weakly, trying to defend himself. He can't. I dig the knife straight through his cheeks, taking it forwards to break through teeth and flesh. I then slice pretty little patterns into any skin on his body. He's long dead by now as the knife sinks in, its small size giving a better ability to create more intricate designs. Blood flows out in steady streams, and I watch as he splutters and chokes. Soon enough, adrenaline pumps through my veins as I look down at the destroyed corpse surrounded in the pretty blood that's meant to be inside the body, not outside. I chuckle softly, quiet giggles quickly becoming loud laughs.

 

Just to rid the remaining sanity loss and pent up anger, I grab a chair. I pull off a leg of it, and look down at Muhammad. The leg obliterates his skull swiftly as I smash it down on his head, blood splurting out as the brain is mangled and mushed. Loud _cracks_ echo through the basement as I bring the chair leg down repeatedly, the wood splintering and sticking in bashed pieces of head. 

 

Cleaning myself up, I walk back upstairs. Everyone's still there, except the party things are gone. Deanna spots me and rushes over, wrapping her arms around me and squeezing me with her body. I'm taller than her; her small 5'7" nothing compared to my great 6'6". "...this is where you hug back...." She whispers, voice small and gentle. Hesitantly, I wrap her up in my soft embrace. "I didn't know it would upset you, Sam. I'm sorry. I didn't realise that what happened to your family was on your birthday.." she frowns into my shirt. "It's alright, Deanna. No harm done." I reply. Her hair smells like strawberries, although it's faint. It's comforting and calming, in a way. She looks up at me, smiling softly. "...I just realised your eyes have little specks of brown in them. I thought they were just green.." her statement surprised me, yet it isn't wrong. "Is that good?" I question, looking back at her with a raised eyebrow. She nods a little, leaning closer to my body heat. "Yeah.. very attractive, too." She leans closer, face barely inches away from mine.


	8. Experiment #87 "Holly"

I woke up, the duvet being tugged away from my half-naked body. Groaning a little, I covered my eyes with my arm and turned to nuzzle back into the sheets. A loud bark was let out as Martaeus started licking my cheek to wake me up. There was a soft giggle from my right, and I knew who it was. "..Dirk." I growled a little, covering myself more. "I'm surprised Martaeus didn't tear you to shreds." I said as I looked into his happy blue-green eyes. "Bitch please. He wouldn't do such a thing." Dirk said with a smirk, reaching out to pet Martaeus. "Why are you here, Hudson?" I asked.

"It was your birthday yesterday, right?"

"No. 4 months ago. Now get out." As I guessed, Dirk didn't leave. So I grabbed him by the collar and dragged him out.

 

"Aww, come on, Sammy! You know you love me really!" Dirk said with a smirk.  ~~~That rhymes!~~~ "I do not know the concept of love, nor do I care for it. But, if I could love someone, it definitely wouldn't be you." I replied, voice low and gravelly. Deanna frowned, looking over the top of her book. "Really?" She asked, and I look at her sad face. "I..." Opening my mouth to speak, I find nothing to say, so I close my close it again. Crestfallen, Deanna puts down her book and stands. "Dirk, please go." She says. With a mere shrug, Dirk turns back to me. "Dirk," Deanna growls "if you fail to leave in the next minute, I will personally see to it that you are torn limb from limb by Martaeus." She continues, clearly angry and not a force to be reckonned with. Dirk, knowing he cannot win an argument against my angel, left hastily. With a sigh, Deanna turns back to me. "...is it true..? What you said about love?" She sounds so sad. I don't like it when she's sad. Shaking my head, I look down at the floor. "Maybe, I don't know. But.." I don't get to finish my sentence. She's gone. To her room. Alone in the living room, I whisper "when I do picture myself happy, it's with you.."  ~~~haha Destiel haha~~~

 

I drag the brown-eyed brunette down to the basement, careful to make sure Deanna doesn't see me. In honour of my experiment's name, Holly, I'll stick holly leaves in her. All over her. Make them dig into her flesh. She's strapped down tightly, the bonds a fraction too tight. I can't find it within myself to care. Millie drops off some holly leaves, fresh from the garden, leaving Deanna to bring them down to me. She didn't see anything, though. Probably. Carefully taking out the sharp leaves, I take off a couple. With swift movements, I stab the leaf through the peachy flesh of her left arm. Thank Gog for sound proof walls. Blood drips down her arm, and she's writhing in pain. "Stop wriggling. It'll hurt more. Like a shot from the doctor." I say with a growl, shoving in another leaf. "Scream, bitch. Scream loud. No one's coming for you. You're gonna die here." Growling lowly, I shove more and more leaves into her. She's screaming and crying, soon choking on her own blood. Chuckling, I stab her with a branch of them. Repeatedly. A faint gurgling sound comes from her as I plunge the branch though her stomach, blood flowing through her wounds and dripping on the floor.

 

 _"She'd be better off without you, Sam."_ My reflection's harsh words sting like a whip on flesh. Movements quick and rough, I wash my hands in the cold water. "You're just an insignificant blip in her life that she can't wait to get rid of." The words echoed around my brain. Growling, I punch the mirror. Hard. It shatters, some shards staying in my hand as the blood streams freely. I walk out of the bathroom, passing a surprised and concerned Deanna on my journey out the door. A few drops of crimson are left on the carpet, and my boots are put on hastily. My hand isn't covered, the shards not pulled out. I don't care.

 

 _Slice, slice, slice_ the knife rips open flesh. Butter knives are great weapons. The internal organs spill out as I dig into pale skin. It feels so... Nice. I love it. Yet, my face remains emotionless and cold. _"She doesn't care about you."_ I mumble under my breath, stabbing the guy repeatedly. _"Insignificant."_ I call myself. The knife keeps ripping and ripping until there's nothing else to rip. _"You don't matter to her."_

_Rip, rip, rip_ the chainsaw purrs as I drag it through limb after limb. _"She'll find someone else."_ I tell myself. _"You"_ two sets of fingers gone. _"Are not"_ both hands dismantled _"important."_ Entire body torn to shreds. The crimson substance pours from severed veins, staining freckled flesh.

 

"Barton, get your stupid ass back here." Lucy growls through the phone as I hold it to my ear with my shoulder. "Busy." I huff as I use my hand to hold the phone, sirens loud and blaring. Dodging another officer, I keep my head down. Running is hard. But, I manage to get back to the bunker without getting followed or seen. I wore a victim's clothes, so the dogs won't pick up my scent. I went through a few streams, so my trail was lost. Rushing, I throw open the bunker door, closing it behind me. I go up to my room, cleaning myself off before getting ready for bed, sleeping g peacefully.


	9. The Downfall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Could this new mystery blonde be a possible love interest for our dear Sam?

I watched as Lucy came out of the basement, her eyes wide with terror and whole body trembling. "Snooping, Ms. Korda?" I asked, face blank and expression unreadable. "What the Hell is wrong with you, Sam?!" she half asked, half yelled. "What I do is none of your concern, Lucifer." My voice is calm yet still harsh; causing a wave of shivers to run down Lucy's spine. "Don't call me that, Sam! It was just a stupid nickname from school, and you don't deserve to call me by it anymore!" She's more terrified now, and the glare she shoots my way is wavering slightly. "Now answer me! What the Hell are you doing in your basement?" She yells, as if I'd actually answer. Instead, I merely smirk as Keely slips in silently through the front door. "Keely! You have to leave, Sam's-!" Lucy's sentence stops short as Keely delivers a harsh blow to the bottom of her head, successfully knocking out the jumpy brunette. 

 

I was hard at work when Lucy finally came to. But, by that time, I'd already managed to incorporate most of the fish gills into the soft flesh of her neck. Tedious task, but looks simply wonderful, and is the next step in making un-drownable humans. She struggled to speak, writhing against the chair bonds. I find it rather amusing, really, how someone so fearless and tough can be reduced to a whimpering mess of pure cowardice in only a matter of seconds. Of course, now I'll have to find a new agent, which can prove to be quite... difficult, to say the least. I'm sure Keely can handle it perfectly fine, as she has done in the past; let's just hope she picks a less nosy one next time. I'd do it myself, but Keely's significantly better at human interaction than I am.

 

I wipe my hands on an old rag as I walk up the basement stairs, spying Keely talking to a rather attractive young woman, clad in a smart black skirt and white blouse with rolled sleeves that suited her perfect hourglass figure. Her mid length black hair had a slight shine from the light shining above her. "Sam, I was wondering when you'd show up." Keely says, glancing my way briefly out of the corner of her eye. "I can't help but notice the lovely young woman you've invited into my humble abode." I speak with no emotion, face and stare blank yet calm as both  Keely and the young woman turn my way. The woman is around her early twenties, and most likely from somewhere in Asia. "Sam, Megan. Megan, Sam." Keely introduces us, smiling brightly as she gestured to each of us. This so called  _Megan_  held out her hand, briefly eyeing the bloody cloth in my hands, before retracting her hand, placing it back by her side. "Ms. Wong will be your new agent, Sam. Be careful." Keely whispers the last part to me before turning on her heels and retreating to the kitchen, presumably to get a beer. "Good to meet you, Ms. Wong. I'd shake your hand, but I slipped down in the basement, resulting in a rather annoying injury, and I'd hate for you to  _unnecessarily_ get your hands dirty." I say, forcing a slight smile as I smoothly lie to her. "Right, well, is there anything you need me to do?" she asked, voice calm and unsurprisingly trusting. I do have that effect on women, I suppose. The occasional man, too. "No, not at the moment. You can go home, if you like. I'll let you know if I need you." I lead her to the door as I speak, and she nods. She politely wishes me a good day as she takes her leave.

 

"Hello, Ms. Wong? I have a job for you. An old... acquaintance... of mine needs picking up. If I send you Albert's address, would you pick him up?" I ask into the phone. Albert and I had some business to discuss. As soon as Megan agreed, I hung up and sent her the address. Soon enough, she arrived at the door, Albert by her side in his usual black suit and signature aviator shades. I let the smirking blonde in, dismissing Megan - who seemed rather overjoyed at getting to go back to her  _oh so wonderful_ Mr. Kennedy. "Samuel Barton. Who'd've thought you'd come crawling back?" Albert stated smugly, voice still irritating and smirk still hideous. "Shut up, Albert. I'm not crawling back, I'm merely proposing a business deal." I growl out, eyes narrowing a generous amount. "Business deals with  _you_ never seem to end well." His smirk never falters as he speaks - a talent in his eyes, an annoying feature in mine. While he's not  _bad_ looking, and not nearly as horrifically disgusting as American 'President' Trump, he's still an insignificant scum-bag. "I can say the same about deals with you, considering you're as devilishly devious as they come." My voice comes out a hostile snarl, and he rolls his eyes behind his ever-outdated, dark purple tinted, vintage aviator shades. "I didn't come here for an argument,  _Dearheart_. If you want to make a deal, then start talking." he snarls back, trying his hardest to be threatening. To be honest, he's about as intimidating as a fluffy kitten with a soft toy.

 

After the deal has been sealed with a handshake, Albert heads over to the door. "You won't regret this deal, Samuel." He says, intentionally winding me up by calling me by my full name. "Oh, before I go; would you like to..  _carry on_ from where we left off that night?" he asks in a feeble attempt to seduce me. "Isn't it against your policy to date clients?" I ask, eyebrows raised and smirk haunting my features. "A-ah, yes, but I can make an exception for you, Dearheart." He tries to play it cool, smirk growing a bit. "Just how many others have you made that promise to, hmm?" I ask. He opens his mouth to counter my words, but I cut him off with a stern "Good _bye_ , Albert." as I close the door behind him. As much of an animal as he is, I may take him up on his offer. After all, my attempts to entice Deanna aren't going too well.


	10. The park + Experiment #101

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Around the area Alan was introduced, I decided "screw this draft, I'm wingin' it!" and had to make up some random stuff on the go. Please excuse any idiocy.

"Do we have to go?" I ask, eyebrows raised as I pull on my trench coat. "Yes, Sam, Martaeus needs to go walkies." Deanna says with a smile, letting a slight giggle escape her cherry red lips as Martaeus licks her face. "Fine, mon cherie." Came my sarcastic reply accompanied with a small huff. She rolled her eyes playfully at me and slipped her hand in mine, pulling me gently out the door. Martaeus tugged on his lead, excitingly pulling us along. "He's a very enthusiastic pup, Sam. How'd you manage to take care of him alone for so long?" Deanna questioned, beaming up at me a little, blue-grey/green  ~~adorably mouldy~~ eyes glimmering with happiness. I gave a small shrug, the corner of my lips turning up a wee bit. "Keely was around to help." I replied, glancing her way out of my peripheral vision. Deanna had this effect on me, though I'm not entirely sure what said effect was. It felt like butterflies and bees, floating around in my stomach, gradually flying up to my throat, making it almost impossible to talk around her. I'm allergic to bees. 

 

Her laugh sounds like an angel; sweet and soft. I find myself smiling back, however small it may be, while an occasional chuckle escapes my throat. Martaeus seems happy, too. Jumping, barking, and running, tail wagging all the while. It... It's almost like - dare I to think - we're a family. I can't believe it. Even  _thinking_ about it feels foreign to my oh so superior brain. An uncontrollable shiver flows down my spine. I'm... scared... But... it... feels nice...? Like a warm and unfamiliarly fuzzy feeling I can't get rid of. I hate it, yet I love it. I... what am I going to do? I should probably ask Keely about it, she'll know what to do. She is my mentor, after all. A small squeeze at my hand pulls me out of my thoughts. "Ground control to Major Tom, are you with us?" Deanna asks, a hint of a smirk ghosting her delicate features. Looking down at her, I give a gentle nod. "Good, cause Martaeus just pooped and I'm not picking it up!" she says, amusement laced in her words like venom in a viper's bite. ' _She's so perfect_ ' I catch myself thinking, and the thought catches me off guard like a wildfire. I've never thought of anyone as perfect before; not even myself. What does this mean?

 

My elbows rest on my knees, feet on the chair, and legs drawn tight to my chest. I'm thinking. Deanna's cooking, and the heavenly scent fills my nostrils. Keely's here, doing paperwork. Megan's staying for dinner as her boyfriend is out of town and she decided to become friends with Deanna. She's talking with Deanna, noise blocked out by the sounds of my thoughts swarming my brain. Martaeus' sleeping, body curled up next to mine. I need a distraction. Standing up, my back cracks. The sound gains me a rather disgusted look from Keely, to which I smirk and chuckle. My steps are quick and my journey short; the basement door located only a few long strides away from the living room. "Sam?" Deanna calls out, head peeping from the kitchen door. My steps halt and I look at her over my shoulder. "I...I'm just... working..." I mumble. She frowns, sighs, but then nods curtly. Keely gives me a stern look as she comes up to me, whispering a hushed "Alan's down there. Don't be too loud, I'm not sure I can stop Deanna from going down there. She may not look it, but she's incredibly strong." I nod, and go down the steps to my basement lab.

 

I used to know Alan. We were never close, considering I hated him with every fiber of my being. He had tried to get with a fellow science student I knew; Aubrey Flutterbuck. Aubrey was sweet, but knew not when people were bad. It was quite sad, actually, how much trust she put into others. She was good friends with a girl named Sophia for a while, until a rather unfortunate argument tore our little... group... in two. I was in the middle of all the drama, having been loved by all members of the group. After having enough of their petty fighting and annoying insults, I left. Haven't spoken to any of them for quite some time, either. I wish things hadn't left off the way they had. I wish I could've let Izzy know why I truly had to go. But there had been no time for that at the time, and I highly doubt that there ever will be again, all things considered. But, onto the more important task at hand; I've never done a face transplant before. Though, experimenting is the only way to move forward in the art of science; so let's begin. Millie mentioned that the zoo had introduced some polar bears into one of their enclosures, before handing me a cooler - filled with parts, no doubt. If anything, we're doing them a favour. The poor dears would've hated zoo life; unwanted cruelty to animals who deserved the world.

 

The skin on the face is soft, easy to cut through - much like, but not entirely similar to, the skin on the stomach that splits so wonderfully especially when bloated. A small pocket knife is recommended. Anaesthetic is, too, but we ran out. Poor Alan. Blood slips out as the knife pushes in, peeling away the skin at the edges. Millie had previously taken out the eyes of the polar bear to make this procedure a lot easier. Hunter, I think was it's name. The warm blood leaves a crimson stain on my hands, one I've come to realise, after a few years of doing this, will never fade. But that's okay. I like it. I like the way the warmth spreads down my hand as the ruby red trickle makes it's way across my skin. It tends to go whichever way it wants, as if the erythrocytes had a mind of their own. The more tainted the blood, the better.

 

He was quite the screamer, that's for sure. Loud and ear piercing. I manage to make quick work of the patching up; handcraftsmanship perfected from the colossal quantity of previous experiments. This is number 101, after all. It's a perfect fit. Keely made sure to treat his other various wounds that I may or may not have inflicted beforehand. "Go wash up. Deanna's waiting. Don't upset her again, Samuel." She said, tone stern and unwavering. I do as I'm told, heading back to Deanna. She's sitting at the table, cold food on the plates she had set out for the four of us. Megan was sitting on the chair next to her, talking to her in a hushed voice. My angel looked glum. Unhappy. Was I the cause of this, yet again?

 

Resting a warm hand on her showing shoulder, I feel the muscles shift as she tenses, then relaxes a small bit after a few slow seconds that seem to last a lifetime. "возлюбленнoй, what's wrong?" I ask, genuinely concerned. Megan excuses herself to sit on the sofa, where Keely had just walked over to. Meanwhile, Deanna shakes her head at me. "You're always in the basement.. Would it kill you to spend time with me? To walk Martaeus?" She stands, looking at me with a cold glare. "Y'know, I thought you were different. The way Millie described you.. that's not who you are. I thought maybe I could finally love someone who wouldn't take me for granted; someone who actually cared and wasn't just in it for the-the food o-or the.. the constant affection, but I.. I guess I was wrong..." Deanna began mumbling towards the end. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears as her eyes gazed up into mine. "You weren't wrong. I just.. I'm not used to people being with me. I'm truly sorry for upsetting you, возлюбленнoй, and I understand if you want to leave. But.. I  _do_ love you, Deanna. With all my heart." I say, voice soft and expression gentle. "I.... You do?" she asks, seemingly stunned. I nod, and she is quick to pull me into a warm embrace. Her face nuzzles into my chest, arms working their way around my torso. "That's all I wanted, Sam. Thank you." Her voice is muffled slightly by my flesh, and her breath tickles my chest slightly. I press my face into her hair, smiling. "Don't thank me, возлюбленнoй. Thank yourself for being so.. amazing." I whisper, and she giggles. We go back to the table, and she slips her hand in mine under the table, squeezing it as she gives me a small smile. Keely and Megan come back, too, enjoying the splendid dinner that Deanna blessed us with. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

~EXTRA SCENE~ 

The bed is warm, as is the body next to me. I blink blearily against the harsh light from the curtains. It's my room, yet there's unfamiliarly familiar company. "....So when's the wedding?" Asks a certain redhead from her crouched position by the side of my bed. My eyes go wide as I sit up, awaking my angel in the process. "WARREN, OUT!" I yell, surprised and yet agitated. "FINE, fine!" Millie says with a mischievous grin as she stands, walking to the door. She winks to Deanna over her shoulder as she leaves, to which Deanna only sighs and rolls her eyes, playful smile hinting at her lips. "I BETTER GET AN INVITE, BARTON!" Millie calls through the door. I sigh deeply, running my fingers through my hair, eyes closed. " идиот..." I mumble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Co-edited by Le Dee Dee (Like, the first paragraph, I ain't letting her do //all// my work for me)  
> "возлюбленнoй" - sweetheart  
> "идиот" - idiot


	11. Deanna's Niece

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Originally planned for her niece to be called Ruby, but Riley sounds better. Also originally planned for this chapter to come before "The park", but I found it more fitting to come after Sam and Deanna became an established couple. Can't wait to break your hearts with the way Human ends!

Children. I hate them. So noisy and full of tears; so fussy and hard to care for. But, much to my dismay, this child is Deanna's family, so I can't use her as an experiment.  ~~Probably.~~ Riley Kae Maitland, Deanna's niece. Although, now that I think about it, she's not too bad. A little noise is guaranteed due to her age, but she doesn't pester us too much. Martaeus doesn't seem to mind her, and has occasionally brought her either a blanket or a cushion. It was... Cute. A word I never thought I'd say outside of cleverly thought out irony. Right now, she was sitting on the sofa with Deanna next to her, practicing her reading skills. Deanna had trusted me in the kitchen. ~~~~ ~~~~~~Bad idea, Dee Dee.~~ Keely was with me, though mainly to see that I didn't set the bunker on fire; she wasn't actually helping at all, merely sitting on the counter watching as I made a fool of myself. Cookies. Children liked cookies, right? I know a certain redhead does, and she's definitely childish. Cinnamon and nutmeg cookies are the only ones I know how to make, considering that the recipe for them was the only one of my mom's recipes that survived the fire. 

 

"Pleeeeeeeeeeease can we go get ice cream?" Both Deanna and her niece ask as soon as I step into the living room, holding a plate of cookies. Though it never usually has any affect on me, their begging tones and sad puppy dog eyes seem to make my brain want to grant them anything they want - and more. With a heavy, reluctant sigh, I nod. "Okay. We can go get ice cream." I mutter, instantly regretting it as the loud, joyful cries of thanks were all I could hear, soon accompanied by Martaeus barking. I silence Martaeus by holding up one hand, and he immediately sits, staying quiet. I pat his head, something I do to show him he's been good. The little human is quick to hug my legs, looking into my eyes with a beaming grin on her face. This act causes my lips to turn upwards at the sides, showcasing a small smile. Rolling her  ~~beautiful~~  blue-grey eyes, Deanna smirks and picks up Riley, holding her with one arm as she holds her other hand out to me. "C'mon, Gigantor. Let's go." She says, smile wide. Hesitantly, I take her hand, and we walk to my car. Her hand is a little cold, but is gradually warming up as we climb the staircase. Our hands fit together almost perfectly, the feeling surprisingly normal. 

 

I drive, and yet Deanna gets to choose the music. Doesn't she know that driver picks the music, shotgun shuts their cakehole? Though, I must admit, her music isn't too horrific. The faint hum of the non-explicit playlist of Metallica floods quietly through the car, but no one seems to be listening. Deanna is talking to Riley, discussing favourite ice cream flavours. Raspberry ripple, that's what Deanna likes, while Riley enjoys a mint chocolate chip with extra sprinkles and a flake. The drive wasn't too long, seeing as the town is only a couple miles' drive away. Though, I did get a missed call from someone. Probably either Millie with a new report on prices or Michael checking in on me like he usually does at this time, assuming he's not still in bed.

 

I parked the car outside the ice cream shop. Instantly, Deanna and Riley ran out of the car and raced each other inside. The look of amazement on their faces as they marvel at the mass variety of flavours and toppings and cones. It amazes me that dairy products can make people this excited. Maybe it's just the sugar making them go crazy and want more. Makes sense. It's just frozen cream and sugary toppings, nothing all too special, yet they make it seem like such a big deal. What do they love so much about it? "Sammy can I have this one?" Riley asks, pointing at a picture of a big swirl of chocolate ice cream, topped with strawberry sauce and pumpkin-shaped sprinkles. "Oh, Riley, Sam doesn't-" Deanna started, but I cut her off and said "If you so wish, Riley. As long as it's okay with your aunt, of course." A smile comes to my lips as I pick her up, both of us facing Deanna with puppy dog eyes. She seemed a little shocked, considering she had seen the harsh glares I'd previously shot Lucy when she'd called me the same. "Pleeeeeeeeeeease, aunt Dee Dee?" Riley asked cutely, and, upon seeing our pleading looks, Deanna nodded. "Only if you eat all your dinner later, Jitterbug." She said, and Riley cheered loudly. Right in my ear, too. While Riley was eating, I got a slightly strong worded text from Michael questioning why I had contacted Albert after so long of trying to shut him out of our lives.

 

We arrive back at the bunker shortly after Riley finished her ice cream. She had practically demolished it within a short minute or two. As we got inside, however, my phone buzzed with an incoming call, and I instantly recognized the number of everyone's  _favourite_ redhead. Oh boy. This is going to be  _so_ much fun. I excused myself from the 'living room', walking into the hallway to take the call. "SAMUEL JAMES BARTON, EXPLAIN TO ME WHY THE EVERLOVING HELL YOU MADE A DEAL WITH LITERAL BLONDE SATAN AND WHY I WASN'T NOTIFIED?!" Came the loud, clearly angry yell from the - probably only mildly - irritated ginger.

"My business deals are hardly any of your concern, Millie."

"Uh, I think they are my concern, Sam!  _I'm_ the one getting paid here!"

"If you could refrain from bursting my eardrums, that would be much appreciated."

"SCREW YOU!"

"No thanks."

With a small growl and angry huff, Millie announced she was coming over  ~~just to bitch slap me~~ , then promptly hung up

 

We're happily enjoying our dinner when the door to the bunker slams open, revealing a noticeably pissed redhead and Michael trailing not too far behind her. "SAMUEL!" She yells. With a scowl, I excuse myself from the table and swiftly walk over to the two,soft glare caressing my stern features. "Warren, Pista, now is  _not_ the time. I have guests, one of which being a child." I growl, to which Millie responds with an eye roll and a small disregarding shrug. "We heard what happened with Lucifer, and that you got a new agent without us, and we were fine with that - to some extent. But a deal with  _Albert,_ of all people? Sam, are you crazy or just pining again?" Michael asks, voice calm and slightly concerned. "I'm neither of the two; merely a businessman trying to make a good investment. Now, please, take a break. But, Millie, get me those new samples soon, alright?" I ask calmly, and Millie nods, sighs, then leaves, casting me a small smile over her shoulder, using way too much profanity for a simple  _"Goodnight"_. Michael is a bit hesitant to leave, though. He puts a hand on my shoulder, looks directly into my eyes, and nods. I nod back, and pat his shoulder. He leaves, and I take my place back at the table with Deanna and Riley.

 

I'm happily sitting on the sofa, legs drawn to my chest and eyes shut tight. My mind wanders peacefully until a gentle hand is placed softly on my shoulder, a warm body cuddling up tiredly beside mine. I'm gently eased out of my mind wandering by a voice, so gentle and sweet. "Sam... are you feelin alright?" Her voice is one I've come to love. It makes me so happy, and I open my eyes slowly, legs going back down as my feet rest against the cold hardwood floor. I hesitate a bit as I cautiously move an arm to wrap around her shoulders. Silently, she smiles and nuzzles close to me, one arm draped loosely around my torso, legs resting over my lap. It's like this that I finally feel content.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I watched Resident Evil Vendetta while writing this up, so please excuse any random references to Leon's magic hair


End file.
